Even if you’re on a Bluetooth, even if you’re makin’ a call from one sunny end of Yerba Buena Gardens to the other,
People can still hear you talking.
It is quite possible that, when you walk four steps behind someone else, they will hear you detailing to the person you’re calling “what I’m gonna do to you when I get home.” That “because it’s my birthday,” obligatory activities include “I’m gonna put it in your ass,” by “putting your hands on the counter” and “I’m gonna spread your cheeks,” ending with “then I’m gonna put it all in.”
The person walking in front of you may even hear “I’m gonna put all eight inches in.”
Was the guy behind me homeless? Clean? Particularly urban? Particularly businesslike?
I have no clue, because I’m smart and I didn’t dare turn around to neither confirm nor deny any of the caller’s physical characteristics.
I just high-tailed it outta there, cursing myself for leaving my earbuds at home.
Seriously, between seeing a guy shit, having a guy hold a half-empty box of Nerds against my stomach in the cafe line to demand me to “Pay” (never got around to writing that one), and hearing the step-by-step visualization of Birthday Man’s Butt Plans – Oh, and being groped in broad daylight, but that’s an old tale from last year – I am becoming acutely terrified of walking around on city streets.
I dunno what to tell you, readers. People are disgusting and gross. And horny on their birthdays.